


A Small Delivery

by Ozonee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Violence, just a blackwatch mission, no beta reader we publish like men, toast sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozonee/pseuds/Ozonee
Summary: A little ficlet about a Blackwatch mission McCree was sent on in the south of France. Implied McGenji. Includes a little bit of action, a lot of stealth, and mentions of toast sandwiches.





	A Small Delivery

It wasn’t raining, which, in McCree’s opinion, was the highlight of the night.

It was supposed to storm. The kind of storm the cashier at the grocery store used as a chance to make any kind of small talk to their customers. People got all up and excited about it. Those people probably didn’t have to figure out how to break into an 18th century villa in the south of France armed with a gun and six flashbangs. The flashbangs never helped with stealth, McCree didn’t even know why he brought them.

After his sixth round around the mansion he spotted an open window that hadn’t been open thirty minutes ago and took his chance. It was on the second floor of the three story villa. Not really a problem for him, and if it had he’d never hear the end of it. Gripping the grooved intricate concrete detailing, he scaled the building.

He had to make a generous leap to the window sill. It was this moment when he wondered why they didn’t send Genji on this one. His robotic co-worker could’ve had this done two hours ago. A little bit in McCree made him think that Gabe was inside, with a cup of coffee, reading, waiting for him to get in just to chide him on how long it took. It wouldn’t be beyond his boss to do something like that.

He really hoped that wasn’t the case, considering the two dead bodies right outside the gate that McCree tried to hide in the bushes.

He gripped the window sill, about to pull himself up, when he heard the door to the room he was currently trying to break into, open. In a sense of adrenaline, McCree let himself hang off the sill. Anyone with a keen sense of sight would’ve seen his fingers gripped onto the panel, but apparently the soldier inside was more interested in the bag in the corner of the room than the window. 

Out of curiosity, and a paranoid feeling that it was Gabe, McCree lifted himself just enough to see inside. It was an omnic soldier, outfitted in a bulletproof vest and simple jeans. The vest fit awkwardly on him, like he’d just found it laying around and decided it would be nice to have, just in case. It was usually the case with rogue omnic groups. This particular group was a mix of omnics and pro-omnic humans. McCree didn’t really understand the alliance. He was pro-omnic when they weren’t shooting at him, anyone he knew was.

The omnic left, the bag only holding a couple food items and whiskey.

McCree pulled himself into the building before someone walking by outside shot him. That’d be kind of embarrassing. He was in all black, like usual for night missions. His black mass underestimated how high to pull his leg up through the window, and tripped himself. It said, “Shit.” quietly, while regaining his composure, though not his dignity.

It was easier than he thought to sneak around the villa. He was looking for a package, and Gabe said he’d know when he saw it. He said it was in the master bedroom, which gave McCree little to go on considering the villa was as big as his childhood neighborhood.

He stood, silent, when he heard voices up the stairs. He hid in the little closet under the stairs, reminiscing for a second about that one wizard movie boy. God, what was his name? This was going to drive him crazy.

“Anyways, so, like, she tried convincing me it was food, and--”

“Well, it is.” Said a more feminine voice.

“What? I mean, technically, yeah, a toast sandwich is edible, but it ain’t food by any definition.”

“If you can eat it, it’s food.”

“What? No. You could technically eat a lot of things, but they aren’t food. Anyway, she makes me a toast sandwich-- just toast in between to pieces of bread, but I’m like--”

McCree didn’t get to hear what his reaction to that was, there was a crash in the far off wing of the villa. After a brief conversation of if they should go check it out, they probably should, but what if someone’s already checking it out, we should go anyway, they leave their post at the top of the stairs, passing McCree as they go out one of the many doors.

He hurries up the stairs, cautious, not knowing what the crash was. He figured they’d handle it.

After a moment of looking around on the third story of the abandoned villa, he spotted it. Two double doors at the end of the hallway that could’ve only been the master bedroom, or that’s what he’d hoped, pleaded, that it would be.

Whatever God up there granted his wish and he opened the door as quietly as he could. The fireplace was on so in a quick, subtle movement, McCree pulled out his gun. Blackwatch never trained him to hold his gun up, aim it into the room, and say ‘clear’ in his head when he saw the room was empty, television taught him that, and he’d always wanted to do it. The little kid in him smiled as he advanced further into the room, looking for whatever package Gabe was talking about.

There was a creak outside the door and in less than a second, McCree was against the wall, waiting for the door to open.

It opened suddenly, too fast for McCree to react as it swung with purpose into his nose, the taste of blood in his mouth before he could even unhinge his flashbang and throw it on the ground. When he saw the stunned soldier, obviously drunk, very obviously confused and stunned at the sudden flash, he sighed. McCree punched the soldier in the face, cracking the man's nose not so accidentally. He fell to the floor, out cold before he even hit it. McCree shut the door and locked it, cursing at himself for not doing that in the first place.

He rounded the bed, planning on heading into the bathroom when his foot knocked on something.

The communicator on his belt was on before his brain could even fully process the package itself. McCree was seething.

“Agent McCree politely requesting to be patched to Commander fucking Reyes.”

“We don’t got a Commander fucking Reyes, but if you wanna talk to me, I’m here.” Gabe said, boredly.

“This ain’t a job for Blackwatch, this is for those other pricks.” Those other pricks usually meant Overwatch.

“Your criticism has been noted and we’ll pass it on to the commander. Oh, wait.” Gabe’s voice was already close to snapping, McCree guessed it was because it took him too long to get inside, “That’s me. I’ve chosen to ignore your complaints. The second half of your mission tonight is what they needed us for. It was easier than handing the package off to us.”

There was a worried beat from McCree, “I’m not, you know, gonna have to kill…”

“I’m not going to make you kill a fucking baby McCree, no.” Gabe sounded vaguely offended.

“Okay. Uh, fuck. Okay. Just send me where to take this thing.”

“It’s a kid, McCree, just make sure you don’t shake it on the way out. It’s bad for them.” His communicator shut off with Gabe ending the conversation there.

It was a car seat, unfortunately awake. It looked up at McCree with big eyes and a confused look, but babies are generally confused about everything, so McCree didn’t pay it much mind. He hefted the car seat, a little thrown off with how heavy the damn thing was. It was too heavy to scale down the building with, so he guessed he should just go out the front door.

After a quick thought, McCree set the baby down and pulled a silencer out of his thigh pocket, screwing it on his gun that had modifications specifically for a silencer, something not usually seen on revolvers. Perks of the job, McCree mused.

Right as he went to open the door, the baby cooed. Stealth was out of the question. He wondered if he could just walk out as if he belonged there.

 

-

 

Walking into a place pretending like you belonged there usually worked for places like retail store backrooms, factories, and businesses. Not usually a gang hideout, who noticed, wait a minute, this guy is carrying out our hostage money. They opened fire on him immediately, as soon as they saw him coming down the stairs with the kid. He shot two and the other darted into a room to for cover.

McCree hurried to the little closet under the stairs, still not able to remember that little wizard boys name, it was driving him crazy, and stashed the baby inside.

He came back a couple minutes later, his nose re-broken and hands covered in blood. He wiped them off before picking the baby carrier back up again. The baby gurgled, McCree shushed it.

After that it was almost a straight shot out of the front foyer, save for one unfortunate guard. McCree looked pathetically at the single guard, having known the hours it took to get inside, seeing one guard made his heart hurt.

One more bullet and he was outside, carrying the baby towards one of the hover cars in the curved driveway. He placed the car seat down by his feet while he pulled a small device out of his pocket. A little Blackwatch tool that unlocked car doors for you, since virtually none of them used keys anymore. A simple hack and the door popped open.

McCree took the baby to the passenger side of the car, thought for a moment, then took it to the back seat. After fiddling with the seat belt and getting it over the bulky seat, he closed the door. He head back around the car, too in his head trying to remember the wizard boys name to notice that there was a man there waiting for him, hiding by the driver’s seat door. McCree recognized him as one of the people he’d knocked out on patrol about an hour ago. He knew he should’ve killed him.

The man got his foot tangled in McCree’s, purposely tripping him up so he could grab the back of his head and slam it into the windshield. His forehead split open, blood graciously flowing down into his eye. He reared back and elbowed the man in the head, dazing him for just long enough to get himself free. The man attempted a shot at McCree, but missed, the bullet bouncing off the gravel driveway. McCree didn’t miss and spent the better half of five minutes dragging the body all the way back to the shrubs he left him in the first time.

Opening the car door, he realized the baby was looking straight at him, and had watched what happened outside.

“Uh,” He said, professionally.

He started the car with the same device that unlocked it and drove off, following the directions Gabe sent him through his communicator.

“Athena,” McCree said, after almost an hour of driving. “At what age do children, uh, start making memories?”

“Research suggests age 3, Agent McCree.”

“Oh, good.”

-

 

It was a three hour drive from Limoges to Paris and amazingly uneventful. The sun was just peaking over the horizon as he got into the city, following the little map Athena drew for him on his phone.

“Boo-dah.” The baby said.

“You’re not wrong.” McCree replied, pulling into a neighborhood. It was gated, but the security guard took one look at his badge and let him through. He pulled up to a house with a high spiked fence surrounding the perimeter.

He was allowed to drive in, and was met in the driveway by a very expensive looking man and his bodyguards. A woman was with him, golden hair and a worried look on her face. McCree waved a little as he got out of the car, “Howdy. Got a delivery for ya.”

The man looked unimpressed and surprised McCree with an American accent, “You have her? She’s okay?” His professional demeanor failed him for a moment as looked towards the car.

“Yeah, she’s right as rain,” McCree replied, a little amused that it’s a girl, “We just need… well, you know, obviously.” He gestured to the briefcase beside the man’s feet, who puffed up in in anger.

“You’re barbarians. Nothing better than the people who stole my daughter.”

“Hey, now. We’re not asking for seven million dollars.” McCree said, defensively, “But I do reckon this information’s a little bit more valuable than that.” He takes the briefcase and peeks inside it, seeing a laptop and some papers inside. Satisfied, he puts the case on the passenger's seat and takes the car seat out of the back.

At the sight of the car seat the man relaxed substantially and the woman let out a choked sob. McCree put it on the ground in front of them, watching at the woman fuss over her, muttering in French about her daughter and how happy she was to see her okay.

“Happy doing business with you.”

“Get off my property.”

 

-

 

It was 9:23AM when Genji walked into McCree’s hotel room through the balcony, as casual as if that was just a thing people did normally. He had street clothes on, covering his synthetic body and wires. He looked tired, but if he ever had a moment where he didn’t, McCree’s never seen it.

“My room faces the main street.” McCree protested, grunting when Genji poked at the bandage on his forehead.

“No one saw.” His co-worker said, simply. “Reyes says good work. We’ll be leaving Paris in a couple hours.”

McCree laid back down on his bed, Genji didn’t seem to mind as he looked the man over, checking for any serious injuries he was hiding. Something him and McCree had in common. “Should’ve had you do it,” McCree popped something in his back as he stretched, “I’m no good with kids.”

“I’m sure the child had more in common with you than you think.” Genji stood up, going to the bathroom to check and see if McCree cleaned up after himself after patching himself off. No need to worry the hotel staff. 

It was quiet for a couple minutes, McCree debating on whether he wanted to sleep more or not. He could sleep on the plane, but this bed felt too nice to pass up, “That was you, wasn’t it?” He said, raising his voice so Genji could hear him in the bathroom.

He poked his head out, “Hm?”

“When I was inside, I heard a crash in the other side of the house. You should’ve told me you’d be there too.”

“I was just sent as backup. It was taking a while and I was getting impatient. I threw a wheelbarrow through the window.”

“I’m sure that threw them for a loop.” McCree raised his arm, an invitation.

Genji hesitated, an action McCree was too used to seeing, “Our plane leaves at three.” He said.

“Plenty of time to get in a couple more hours, don’t you think?”

“McCree…” Despite the uncertainty, the synthetic man did move closer, “We’ll have to talk about this sometime soon.”

“Talk about what?”

“This.” Genji said, obviously having internal conflict, yet laying down with his head on McCree’s shoulder anyway.

“We’re just two dudes getting some sleep. What, you got a crush on me or something?” The joke was light, and McCree almost heard a laugh. A ridiculous notion, considering the late nights they spent together, whether sparring or… something else. Something McCree looked forward to. Though, nowadays he kind of looked forward to seeing Genji, no matter what time of day.

“Later, then.” Genji said.

“Later then.” McCree replied, sleep finding him shortly after.


End file.
